


Karn's crush

by Imagine_Darksiders



Category: Darksiders (Video Games)
Genre: Hurt No Comfort, Pining, Secret Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-26
Updated: 2018-04-26
Packaged: 2019-04-28 08:55:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14445786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imagine_Darksiders/pseuds/Imagine_Darksiders
Summary: Death continues his escapades of trying to ward off your potential suitors. This time, poor Karn's gone and gotten himself a little crush on the horseman's charge...





	Karn's crush

“Hey Karn!”

The young maker jumps a literal foot in the air, crashing back down to earth so hard it almost knocks you off your feet. 

“Y/N!?” he yelps, spinning to face you and practically throwing his hands behind his back in a not-so-subtle attempt to hide whatever he has clenched between his thick, gloved fingers. “W-what’re you doing here!?”

“Nice to see you as well,” you smirk playfully, jabbing a thumb over your shoulder towards the Foundry. “Old _Bonehead_ over there managed to wear out another pair of boots, if you’d believe it. Said he needed to ask Alya if she had any spares.” Eyeing the maker suspiciously, you jut your chin over at his concealed hands. “What’ve you got there?”

Karn blanches and stiffens. His shoulder muscles bulge dangerously with how tightly his arms are being squashed behind his back. “Oh, nothin’. S’nothin’….”

“Uh _huh_ …” You raise a skeptical eyebrow at the young maker, noting the way the very tips of his ears have started to tinge pink. You let it slide though, fully aware that Karn has his quirks that are better left unchallenged. Instead, you wink up at him with a hopeful grin. “So, am I ever going to get a proper ‘Hello’ then?”

He glances around nervously, clutching his hidden prize tighter and flushing even pinker. “I, uh…Well _yeah_ , I just need to, uhhhh….”

At that moment, a pair of loud, thunderous footsteps come thumping down the stone steps towards you. They shake the ground at their approach, bouncing a few pebbles into the air, but you simply grin when a hearty laugh booms through the quiet forge.

“Maker’s beard! Didn’t think _you_ were ever coming to see us again!”

Turning around, you beam up at the old warrior; Thane, as he bends a knee and takes your hand between his thumb and forefinger.

“Come on, old man,” you tease, “You _know_ I go where Death goes. If you’ve got a complaint about not seeing me enough, you’ll have to take it up with _him_.”

A smirk stretches his scarred lip at the ‘old man’ comment, but he’d never give you the satisfaction of a retort. With your hand still resting in his, Thane utilises all of his willpower to be as gentle as possible when he gives your fingers a quick stroke with his thumb. “Welcome back, Y/n. Forge just ain’t the same without _you_ around.”

Meanwhile, at Thane’s perfectly-timed, unaware distraction, Karn takes the opportunity to hurriedly stuff his secret item into one of the satchels hanging beside his hip. When it’s done, he breathes a silent sigh of relief and slumps forward. The sound of your light laughter draws his attention again and the youngest maker’s grey eyes rove down to where you stand before Thane, relived to find that you’re still exchanging a friendly greeting with the elder and hadn't noticed a thing. 

Karn’s lips twitch at the mere sight of you.

Ever since you’d first stepped nervously into The Cauldron, peeking out from behind your horseman companion, Karn’s entire world had started to become just that little bit brighter.

He had seen the light behind your eyes and felt, firsthand, the boundless compassion of your heart. You’d been thrown into a new world with no guarantee of survival, no hope for a future, but you’d met him with a smile and a promise to help, in any way you could.

At the first sign of danger, you’d been scared. Of _course_ you were, how could you not be? You were so small and _new_. But behind the frightened eyes and trepidation, Karn could faintly make out the tiniest spark of excitement. There was a fire in you that burned softly but surely. It wasn’t obvious, too quelled by the trauma you’d received in the months following the end of your world, but the flame was undoubtedly _there_.

It wasn’t love at first sight, mainly because the maker wasn’t sure what love was. He’d merely been enraptured that he _finally_ had a real, honest friend. Then, slowly, the more time you spent around the forge, the more he became aware of a strange, unexplored swell of fondness that began to grow deep in his chest.

Without even knowing it, Karn had tripped, tumbled, rolled and clumsily nose-dived into love with you.

And he _has_ to let you know. He _has_ to.

Abruptly, the maker is pulled from his thoughts when he finally notices the absence of sound. He jolts, eyes focusing on you as you stare up at his face with a cocked eyebrow. With a sinking feeling, Karn realises that he’d been caught staring at you this entire time and you’d just asked him a question, but he’d no idea what it was.

“Huh?” he utters, lamely.

Puffing out your cheeks, you squint into his confused eyes. “I _said_ , are you sure you’re okay? You don’t seem like yourself today…”

The mighty heart within his chest skips a beat or two because you actually _noticed_ he isn't himself. Nobody _ever_ notices him like you do. Nobody _wants_ to know.

“Oh no, I’m right as rain,” he nervously chuckles.

Once again, you shoot him a concerned glance and bite your lip, but then, you shrug, strolling past him and patting his hand fondly as you do.

“Oooookay, well, I’m gonna go catch up with the twins and Warden. Come find me later, okay?”

“A-aye!” he calls, gazing after you as you trot towards the forge.

Thane watches the interaction with mild interest. “You know Pup,” he says, startling Karn from his love-struck trance, “If you wanted to be any more obvious, we could always hammer a sign onto your forehead that says ‘I’m pining after the _horseman’s charge_.”

The young maker’s blush rockets from the tips of his ears to the top of his shoulders at Thane’s suggestion. “Whu-?”

“Oh come off it, boy.” The warrior rolls his eyes in exasperation. “Even the _Warden_ knows you’ve got your head all in a tizzy over that little human. And if _he_ knows…” Thane jabs a forefinger into Karn’s chest. “…You can bet that Death knows too.”

“N'why’s that so important?” The smaller maker brushes the warrior’s hand away with grumble.

Shaking his head at the cluelessness of his fellow maker, Thane answers, “It’s _important_ , because I don’t think it’d be a bright idea to try and come between tall, dark and gruesome and Y/n. There’s…. _somethin_ ’ there. Somethin’ I don’t think you ought'ta disrupt. Death might not…appreciate it.”

“Well, what _else_ am I s'posed to do?” the young one retorts, “I can’t get Y/n out of my head. I need to tell _some_ one _some_ thing soon or I’ll-I’ll-” He breaks off and rubs his temple with a tender hand.

Beside him, Thane blows air through his lips, loudly. “Look,” the warrior offers, “If you’re not going to change your mind; at least take my advice.” He steps closer to Karn and lowers his voice marginally, peering up Muria’s steps, where the horseman had ventured not long ago. “I’d approach _him_ about this first…”

“Approach who?”

With a huff, the older maker cuffs Karn over the back of his head. “What are you  _daft_ , boy?” he scolds, “The _horseman_ , you twit! Who’d you think?”

Karn’s lips part in a soft ‘oh’ of understanding.

But he’s reluctant. It’s mostly because he hates the thought of confronting Death about something so inherently private. Surely he trusts you to be able to make your own decisions?

His eyes follow Thane’s, up the stone steps towards Muria, before swivelling back down to watch you slip quietly through the large doorway that takes you through to the Maker’s Forge. Quickly, Karn makes up his mind.

Before he loses his nerve, he has to tell you how he feels. Hang the horseman, this isn’t about him. It’s about _you_. It’s always been about you.

“Eh, sorry Thane,” he mutters, “But I was hoping to avoid Death with this..”

Throwing his arms up, the warrior lets out a gruff sigh. “Argh, do what you like, Pup. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.” With that, he abruptly turns on his heel and stalks back to the training circle, grumbling to himself about ‘ _impossible youths_.’

As he leaves, Karn rushes after you down the steps. He’s just about to reach the door, thrusting a hand into his pocket to retrieve your gift when suddenly, he finds his path blocked.

From the staircase that leads up to Muria’s stone gazebo, Death slithers in front of him, effectively stopping the young maker in his tracks. A pair of blazing, fearsome eyes glare up with an intensity strong enough to force Karn back a step or two.

Death cocks his head to the side, considering the youngling for a few moments. “Going somewhere, Karn?” he asks, voice holding an unspoken warning, “Why the rush?”

Feeling his resolve shatter under the horseman’s scrutinising glare, Karn hurriedly yanks his hand from the satchel and starts to twiddle his thumbs, nervous. “Horseman!” he tries, cheerfully, “I just…I was just on my way to tell Y/n somethin’, that’s all.”

“Oh? And that something couldn’t have been mentioned when you were both talking a moment ago?”

The maker pauses. “W-well. I uh, _forgot_? Only just now remembered what the question even was!”

Death’s head tilts in the opposite direction and he folds two grey, sinewy arms over his chest. “Really? But you appear so _keen_ to ask it! Seems a tad too important to have simply slipped your mind?”

In a matter of seconds, Karn takes in the horseman’s posture, his tone of voice and the way he’d positioned himself directly in the way of the door, through which you’d just disappeared.

Death gives off an aura of a coiled spring. His arms are taut and tense against his chest and the way he’s standing…..Karn notes that he’s seen that poise before.

It’s a guarding stance, usually reserved for times where a corrupted construct or foul demon turns its muzzle towards _you_. Discreetly, casually, the horseman would manoeuvre his way in front of you and into the path of the relevant threat.

And right now, the perceived threat happens to be a love-sick maker.

Death is guarding you.... from _Karn_.

 

It’s with a slow, sinking feeling in his gut that the young maker realises, Thane was right.

_’This bugger’s onto me...’_

He swallows thickly and tries to work out whether it would be best to lie to the horseman, or come clean and face his wrath regardless.

’ _Yeah, neither option sounds ideal,_ ’ he groans mentally. In the end, he settles for something that’s neither a lie, nor a confession.

“Alright horseman, what’s this about?”

“You’ve been very distracted of late,” Death says with feigned concern, “That wouldn’t have something to do with Y/n, now would it?”

The way he’s drumming his finger tips against one bicep is enough to indicate that trying to deny anything would be a terrible idea.

Pursing his lips, Karn glances off to a spot just right of the horseman and shrugs. “It might,” he dares.

Death moans loudly and pinches the nose-ridge of his mask, grumbling, “First Draven and now the Pup…”

“Draven?” Karn feels a twinge of jealousy flare up in his chest. “Who’s Draven?”

“Never mind that,” the horseman barks, waving his hand side to side in aggravation. He throws the maker a grim but somewhat sympathetic look. “I want you to listen to me carefully, Pup. Whatever you _think_ you’re feeling, whatever is going on in that brain of yours, it needs to stop.”

“How do you know what’s going on in my-”

“I’m not an _idiot_ , Karn,” the horseman spits, “I’ve seen the way you look at that human. How your gazes always linger just a little _too_ long. Well, it ends today." He pauses to sigh and lower his voice, finishing softly with, "I’m sorry.”

The maker’s brow knits together and he tries to shift the heavy weight that’s settling itself over his heart.

“I don’t know if I _can_ just….stop,” he whines.

“You’re going to _have_ to,” Death replies in a clipped tone. Then, more gently again, “There’s no life for a human here,” he rumbles, “you cannot be a tie that binds Y/n to this realm. If you tell that little human that you’re...What? That you're in love? Do you know what’ll happen? Y/n will feel torn between staying in the Forge Lands - for _you -_  and returning to Earth. To _home_. There’s a heart in that chest that’s too large for it’s own good. A heart that’ll break if Y/n has to choose between staying here and going back." Quietly, he adds mostly to himself, "I won’t let you hurt my friend like that."

Karn shakes his head rapidly, drilling into Death with imploring eyes. “I’d never want that! I’d _never_ hurt-”

“Then keep your feelings to yourself.” The horseman’s hiss lacks any real heat, he just sounds tired. But whether Death is trying to be cruel or not, Karn’s heart ruptures all the same.

A sigh pulls the maker’s attention back to the being in front of the door. “Come now, Karn,” Death murmurs, “it wouldn’t work out anyway. I don’t think you’re Y/n’s type.” With that said, he turns and ambles towards the entrance to the Maker’s Forge, pulling it open, he casts Karn a guilty glance before letting the doors fall shut in his wake.

 

Quiet settles over the forge once more. Not even the gentle tumble of water that runs through the Tri Stone, nor the faint clangs of metal on wood where Thane bullies some poor training dummy could puncture through the ringing in Karn’s ears.

It’s a well known fact that Makers can’t cry. Or if they _can_ , nobody has ever been around to witness the event.

The youngest of the makers touches a tentative hand to his cheek and pulls it away, inspecting the fingertips to find a strange wetness coating his leather gloves. They’re not tears though. _That_ would be outrageous. Who’d ever heard of a maker that cries?

No. The wetness is just from the sweat that trickled down his forehead during Death’s interrogation.

Angrily, Karn scrubs at his face whilst slumping heavily against the low wall at his back and with a gentleness he’d only recently discovered he was capable of, he reaches into the satchel at his side and fishes something out of it. The maker brings his fist up to eye level and unfurls his fingers, slowly. A dull ache begins to throb in his throat when he sees what a sorry state the flowers are in.

He’d handled them too roughly.

Petals of vivd blue lay scattered and crumpled in his hand. Others are yellow with red tipped edges, vaguely resembling Earth’s roses. The stems that he’d haphazardly snapped off in his eagerness to present them to you, are twisted and limp and half-crushed from being stuffed into a bag. Karn’s lips twist into a disgruntled sneer as he glares down at the flowers in his hand.

’ _That’s just what you do, isn’t it?_ ’ he berates himself mercilessly. ’ _You ruin things. You ruined these flowers. You’d’ve ruined your chance to save the realm, were it not for the horseman_.’ He takes a shuddering breath and clenches his fist tightly over the delicate petals. ’ _And that’s what you’d do to Y/n_ ….’

' _The horseman’s right. You **hurt** people_.’

Finally, Karn turns his hand over and allows the small, ruined flowers to float down, out of his hand. He watches them fall for a time, then turns and slowly trundles towards the gate leading out into the Vale. He passes Thane, barely registering the older maker’s curious grunt. In reply, Karn presses his lips into a thin line, meeting the warrior’s gaze with a small shake of his head. Thane’s own lips curl awkwardly, unsure of how to offer consolation. But Karn doesn’t want it.

He just wants to be alone.

Alone, as usual.


End file.
